


I Felt So Much I Started To Feel Nothing

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [6]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race and Spot fight (pt 1 of 3)





	I Felt So Much I Started To Feel Nothing

_ “Get out.” _

Spot and his argument was still fresh in Race’s mind as he walked down the street. He’d left an hour ago, and he wasn’t sure if or when he was suppose to go back.

He’d tried to go to Jack’s place. After five minutes of trying to buzz into his apartment, he finally walked away. He was probably out with Davey, out doing fun couple stuff together.

That part hurt, which was why he was trying to hold back tears as he entered the Eighth Avenue subway station, at one in the morning on a Friday night, alone.

He had no idea where he was going, he just wanted to go. He’d turned off his phone because he didn’t want to have to deal with anymore bullshit, at least for a few hours.

The train came just as he got a pass. He thanked whatever god was above that it wasn’t crowded. The drunk crowd was either on a different car or still out.

* * *

 

_ “Stop acting like this is all my fucking fault!” _

_ Race gripped his hair and let out a yell. “Nobody said it was your fault Spot! Stop this victim bullshit, I’m  _ sick _ of it. _ ”

* * *

 

The car started moving, and Race let his head rest of the window. He could feel a headache coming on, but that was really the only thing he could feel right now. Fighting had taken everything out of him, and he could feel himself starting to cry a little bit and he let the tear fall.

There was no emotion behind them. A hollowness had started filling his chest, and for the first time since he met Spot, he didn’t have anyone to bring him back down to Earth

* * *

 

_ “You’re sick of it? For the last week you’ve been sulking like I’ve been going around fucking everything that moves. Stop treating me like an asshole and maybe I wouldn’t act like one.” _

_ A part of Race was genuinely afraid of the glint in Spot’s eyes that he could see from across the room.  _

_ Another part of him didn’t feel anything. That part had receded to some dark pace deep inside of him as soon as voices became raised. _

* * *

 

They got to the next stop and a older guy gave Race a look as he got off. If he had a bit more energy he might have flipped him off. 

He used to do this a lot when he was younger. He’d been in and out of group homes and different foster families, and he rode the subway a lot when it got to be too much. 

That’s how he met Spot in the first place, at a shitty group home in Brooklyn. He’d been in worse, Spot had to, and they’d bunked together for about a year before they got split up.

At thirteen they’d somehow managed to keep in contact and get together still, and they became constants for each other. Occasionally they slept at the other’s place if their situation got too rough, which was more often than either of them would have liked.

But the more he thought about it, Race realized that he’d never gotten on the subway like he did by himself. Obviously they’d been on it  _ together _ , but not when Race was like this. 

He always came alone when he was like this.

* * *

 

_ “How the hell was I supposed to know where you were huh?” Race said. His voice was soft but had an all too familiar edge to it. _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean?” Spot took a step forward and almost softened when Race took a step back. _

_ “It means that you could have been dead in a fucking alley somewhere.” _

_ “That’s not what you meant Race, don’t lie.” _

* * *

 

Sleeping was easier on the subway than it should be. You could get robbed because the goddamn train was so quiet sometimes it lulled you to sleep.

Race dug his nails into his palm and forced his eyes to stay open. Falling asleep when he was upset was dangerous even if he wasn’t on the subway. He got nightmares when he fell asleep angry, and he could sleep for a long, long time when he was upset. Crutchie told him in might be a coping mechanism, told him that when he was asleep he couldn’t get hurt, or think about getting hurt.

Guy had a point, because he really wanted to fucking sleep right now, at least his brain did.

A part of him wished that he hadn’t blown up on Spot, there was a better way he could have gone about the whole thing and he knew that.

But another part of him was angry and scared and cornered when Spot walked into their apartment after three days like nothing had happened. 

Like he hadn’t texted Race anything more than, ‘im okay’ at three am the night he left and nothing more. Like he hadn’t looked at Race dead in the eyes and made him feel like he was a jerk for wanted to know where the fuck his boyfriend was.

That part of him finally snapped, and exploded into pieces in their apartment, and the shrapnel stung.

* * *

 

_ They stared at each other for a while, not backing down and not letting anything but anger color their faces.  _

_ It was Race who broke first, it was always Race. _

_ “If it wasn’t something bad than you would have told me Spot, you would have fucking called me instead of running away.” _

_ He knew that he exposed himself with that one, and so did Spot.  _

_ “You wanna talk about running away?” he snapped, and Race knew where his was going and he couldn’t do this now, he didn’t need this now, he didn’t. “You don’t talk to me about shit, you just shut the fuck up and let everyone else pity you because you want the attention.” _

_ That had crossed some sort of line that neither of them had ever formally set. Fighting wasn’t supposed to rip apart your insecurities, fighting between them never cut straight to the bone like that. _

* * *

 

It had been about two hours since he shut off his phone now and he knew he had to check it. If not for Spot, for Jack or Davey because he knew they had to be back by now and got his messages on their machine.

They would find him here eventually if he didn’t respond, it didn’t take a genius to track his phone. Normally he would have found it invasive, but at least somebody cared enough to come get him.

He could see them walking onto the car, could see their eyes lighting up with relief for a half second before falling again. If Jack and Davey came that meant that Crutchie had probably come alone too, and if he closed his eyes he could hear Crutchie lecturing him about the subway at night. He could feel Jack sit down next to him and sling an arm over his shoulder, feel Davey’s eyes on him when he finally broke down.

But Spot wasn’t there when he closed his eyes. Spot was god knows where doing god knows what without him.

Maybe he’d been right, maybe he did just want the fucking attention.

* * *

 

_ Race felt himself shut off after that. A wave of memories and old faded emotions flew at him at once and his brain cut off. He stopped being there.  _

_ “Fuck you Spot.” _

* * *

 

The more he thought about what happened the more memories came back to him of arguments just like that. 

Arguments in old buildings in the dead of night with angry old men. Sometimes they ended with a door slamming or a fist slamming into his jaw. They all left him alone though, that hadn’t changed. He didn’t think it ever would.

* * *

 

_ The room filled with a heavy kind of silence after that. Something had broken and shattered on the floor between them and neither of them could see it for long enough to clean it up. _

_ Race stopped trying to read Spot after that, there was nothing but an old, bitter anger in his face and he couldn’t stand it.  _

_ Weakness had never been for Spot, and he made sure everyone knew it. When Race cried he could feel the cocktail of confusion coming off him in waves, he didn’t know what to do with it. _

_ “Get out.” _

* * *

 

The train got back to where he started and Race got off. He didn’t know if he’d cycled back before, because it was nearly three and either he zoned out for an hour or the night had robbed him.

Jack’s place was the only place he could think to walk to, either him or Davey ought to be there. At this hour the other was probably looking for him, had probably already talked to Spot.

The thought of that meant nothing right now. 

Walking to the building was hazy. Being detached from his emotions usually meant being detached from everything else as well, including his limbs, which felt heavy and clumsy as he walked up to the door.

He buzzed in and heard Jack’s voice at the other end.

“Race, that you?”

“Yeah.”

He got in. More than anything he wanted sleep, which he knew Jack understood. His glazed over reflection in the elevator door gave him a general idea of how much of mess he was, if he was Jack he’d make him get some sleep.

The door to the apartment was open before he got a full knock in, and Jack pulled him in for a hug a lot faster than his brain could process at the moment.

“Jesus Racer, don’t scare me like that,” Jack said, letting go to hold Race at arm’s length. From the look in his eye he was still pretty scared. “Davey was gonna head to the subway to look for you there, I told him you were here. He said he’d beat Spot’s ass for you, if that means anything.”

A laugh escaped Race that he wasn’t entirely sure was his. “You might be down a boyfriend if that goes down Jacky.”

Jack let himself chuckle, though the atmosphere remained tense. “I guess yeah. But really,” he started to rub circles into Race’s arms, encouraged by the immediate relaxing of Race’s body into his, “are you okay?”

Race wasn’t. “Yeah, I am, or will be, I guess.”

Jack knew he was lying but was decent enough to let it slide for now. “Get some sleep Race, it’ll be alright.” 

He pulled Race in for another hug before leading him over to the pullout that he’d made up for him. They said their ‘goodnights’ quietly, tension still thick, but fluid enough to walk through, sleep through.

And Race began to sleep through it. Tears streamed down his cheeks once his head hit the pillow, and he covered his mouth to keep himself quiet.

Everything always came down to this. Him, crying himself to sleep in the dark, alone. Crying sick, angry, bitter tears from a place in his brain that he’d never been able to really escape.

* * *

 

The hours he’d spent on the subway had left him feeling like a lonely kid again. The hour he spent before getting on the subway though, had made him feel like a broken adult. One that had finally ruined the best thing he’d ever had and just walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who finally managed to write something besides fluff!! I say that excitedly but it kills me to write Race in pain  
> Hope you guys enjoyed?? Leave comments/kudos if you did!


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